


like it's the only thing i'll ever do

by christinaapplegay



Series: walk through fire for you [2]
Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, they take weed gummies then have sex, to them anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24568036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinaapplegay/pseuds/christinaapplegay
Summary: Judy wants it to go perfectly, she wants to tell Henry and Charlie under exactly the right circumstances, and them walking in on her and Jen kissing is not what she has in mind.
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Series: walk through fire for you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773193
Comments: 18
Kudos: 157





	like it's the only thing i'll ever do

**Author's Note:**

> title from ‘adore you’ by harry styles again
> 
> uh also i'm sorry if this doesn’t flow well from the first part, i have never really added onto what i planned as a one shot type thing before but i have so much time on my hands rn so lol anyway. enjoy, comment your thoughts, all that xx

It’s fun at first, this sneaking around like teenagers, only able to kiss in total privacy, this refraining from overly excessive touching, it kinda builds anticipation, this excitement that lingers with every little movement around one another, with every look that burns, leaving this raw need that hasn’t been felt in so long, it’s easy to indulge in. 

For the first several weeks, it’s a rush in the pit of Judy’s stomach that doesn't let up, that won't stop reminding her Jen wants her and loves her back, this relief that allows her a sense of safety, greenlighting that her life is gonna be okay because she's got Jen and her two boys and she and Jen have this budding new relationship that’s theirs, only theirs, only theirs because no one knows.

There is this certain excitement when it comes to sex with someone new that Judy has always loved, the initial getting to know what the other person likes, the curiosity there when something is discovered that they like, something that _works_ , that gauges a reaction that's new and leaves a red-hot want in its tracks and Judy always thought she's long passed the days where she spends her shift at work wishing time would speed up, wishing work would just end and she could get home, a day's worth of thoughts waiting to be played out. She even hits the highway which is something she tends to try to avoid as much as possible, but she just wants to get home, get home to Jen and make dinner and have glasses of wine and fall into bed and finally touch Jen in ways she’s been waiting for all day, hopes Jen’s been waiting for, too.

And Jen’s always been touchy with her, and Judy's always loved it, loves it even more now that she can tell Jen _not_ to stop touching her when she gets a little handsy, a little grabby like she doesn't even realize what she's doing, and Judy wonders, sometimes, if she doesn't, if she just subconsciously is reaching out because Judy's there. She finds that Jen is very giving, very generous. It feels uncharacteristic for someone like Jen, who just yells at people the second she feels any negative emotion, to be so loving, so tender, so gentle with her touch. And Judy loves it, kinda craves it, aches for Jen even when she has her, even when she has Jen on top of her, has Jen’s mouth on her, hands burning all over, and sometimes she feels like she wants Jen so bad it’s like she’s never gonna get enough of her. 

It’s like Jen likes to tease, Judy starts to notices, likes to work Judy up, has fun laying a hand on her thigh and squeezing when she shouldn’t, like when they’re at a restaurant with Lorna one night because she insists on getting to know Judy if she’s a permanent fixture in their lives now, which Judy senses is much to Lorna’s dismay, and it’s like Jen knows what that does to Judy, and what an arm around her waist does, how just being close tends to be enough for Judy to be bothered by this blistering need that is something a 42-year-old woman isn’t supposed to be feeling. 

Learning to control desire is new, too, keeping that at bay, not being able to just kiss whenever, not wanting to overstep in front of the boys, not wanting them to find out because they stupidly kiss in the kitchen while they're eating lunch; sometimes it’ll barely be evening, right before dinner and Judy’s sauteeing veggies and Jen’s attempting senior year of high school level math, trying to help Charlie out, both sitting at the counter, Jen muttering some kind of _fuckin’-a_ every few minutes because she cannot get an answer correct, and Henry’s there beside Judy, trying to help with the rice being cooked in a pot on the stovetop because Jen broke the rice cooker last time she tried using it, and for Judy it feels like some kind of sick sacriliege all she can think about is having Jen underneath her, sometimes indulging in herself being pinned down, how Jen _looks_ when she’s about to come, how she tenses, how she holds her breath, how she _sounds_ when she’s about to come, when it’s unrestricted, when she can make noise, and how she looks, sounds when she can’t. 

It’s a juvenile thing, they find themselves driving to the beach, finding secluded parking spots, climbing in the backseat and making out as if it’s some new uncharted territory that they cannot help but explore and it kinda is with them, with every new person, and the whole time they know it’s embarrassing as middle-aged women to do but sometimes you just need to be able to make out without the fear of your two kids walking in on you. And there are remnants of how being young and in love feels, how someone being on your mind non stop is, how even when you’re with them, you feel like you cannot get enough, maybe will never get enough, sorta hope you will never get enough. 

So, it’s fun until she has to lie to Henry and Charlie, it’s fun until it’s daily lies, multiple lies over multiples days, and she starts to feel like she’s falling into bad habits, of lying like it’s truth, of spinning lies so they are not necessarily completely false, but they are not the full truth, either, and Judy knows if she keeps lying to the boys if when they ask why she lives more inside the house, inside their mom's room than in her sanctioned guesthouse, why they have started driving them to school together, why Judy lies her head in Jen's lap so much, only half-assed explaining that they're just friends, which feels like a joke as if friends feel something like a magnetic attraction that zaps you when you get too close... Judy's close to terrified that she’s gonna break the trust she’s continuously trying to build with them, that she feels she has done a good job at earning, over time, and if that happens, if the barrier of trust is torn down, respect will follow, will crumble and won’t be able to be repaired and then there will be multiple empty relationships that once could have been entirely fulfilling for everyone involved. 

And it starts to take over, in moments that should hold a reservation for nothing but ease, ones that remind her that there’s a stark difference between Jen and past relationships; like when she looks over at Jen when they are in the car and Jen looks at her briefly and there’s no malice filled _what_ shot out at her, only always a soft look, sometimes a hey, sometimes an I love you, which takes some getting used to, some telling herself that Jen’s _not_ going to turn on her at one wrong move. They’re kinda too deep into the swing of it for that to happen, Judy feels like she believes. And Jen may say something snippy, sarcastic, may say what you lookin’ at? but with a grin that tells Judy she loves that she’s being looked at, and _Jen’s not Steve_. Jen’s not interested in holding any sort of power over her. And Judy has to get used to this, this being wanted by someone, and wanting someone back, and there being nothing conditional she has to do to earn it, she’s just loved, for once. And it occupies the second spot in her mind, the fact that they’re lying to the boys a first, Judy wondering if Jen’s feeling any sort of guilt for lying, too, a third, and, well, it’s not blunt lies but it’s not like they’ve told the truth, either, so Judy doesn’t feel there’s a difference, and she thinks Jen is guilty, can kinda tell, because it’s like she's extra nice to both boys, letting bad behavior slide more often, allowing Charlie to curse like it’s a legitimate, valid part of his vocab, allowing Henry to have dessert, late, like after 9 PM late, if he wants, and Jen kinda brushes it off when Judy intently stares when it’s happening, and Jen feigns leniency where it seems to be guilt.

They have this routine, one that they have fallen into, one that only continues, pretty seamlessly, where they each work, where life as a family grows, and the boys, too, seem to find familiarity here with them as a pair, with the four of them as a unit. When Judy thinks about it, or when it shows, when there seem to be moments of pure contentedness she finds the boys in, where a family dinner goes smoothly, no cursing from Jen or Charlie, is when it sticks out, when Judy knows she should feel nothing but happiness because they are finding themselves to be a cohesive family, rather feels slight anger at herself, fear that they are building this dynamic under false pretenses, almost. Judy thinks the worry stems from the thought that the boys may think she’s replacing their dad; it feels like it’s one thing to move in under the guise of friendship with their mother, another thing to be sleeping in her bed every night and fucking her, then acting like nothing’s going on the next morning as she makes them breakfast, which she assumes is how it should go, anyway, would go when you have a wife and kids, but, still, it’s the lying factor that makes it feel so unbearable. Neither Henry or Charlie are lying in wait for Judy to become something of a mom to them, she doesn't think, at least, and she's got this worry that's almost digging into her skin, a worry that if they know she's with their mom it's like some confirmation that their dad is being replaced, whereas if it's semi-permanent, where Judy is just kinda hanging out here, it's not like she's replacing anyone. 

Sometimes it’s easy to not think about it and to focus on how they cook meals regularly, everyone helping out, how Judy starts teaching Jen how to bake, how to make a homemade cherry pie, and they spend time with their kids and Judy wonders often if the pure joy of Jen’s kids being hers too will ever lessen, wear off, and she really hopes it doesn’t. They lean into activities both Henry and Charlie like; they go to the pond nearby the house that Henry loves to visit because if you look really hard there are frogs there, and they both eagerly ask Henry for facts on frogs because they _know_ he wants to share, know he’s been checking reference books on frogs out from the library, and when Charlie has this film phase where he gets really into movies they take him to independent cinemas for movies that are only shown at those specific theatres, and he acts as if he doesn’t want them to go but both Jen and Judy can tell it’s a front, can tell he likes that they are into it, too, can tell he likes that it’s their _thing_. 

It’s just Judy feels so at peace in a life where Jen’s her’s and they have these two kids who Judy adores, loves like they are her own, where Jen makes her feel like she’s worth it despite everything that’s ever been wrong with her, everything wrong she’s ever done, it’s almost hard to remember a life where this wasn’t it, where she didn’t come home after work to Jen at the breakfast nook, glasses perched on her nose as she’s ordering merlot on her phone through this app Judy didn’t know exists because they’re out and she doesn’t wanna make a trip to the store, where she’s got two kids sitting at the kitchen counter who greet her like they are relieved to see her, like they actually missed her; Henry who is so excited to talk to her and Jen about his day, how he aced a spelling test and then got to read books on dinosaurs for a whole hour, and Charlie who is less ecstatic but still there, still among them, still starts talking to Judy like she’s his mom, too, Judy is constantly worried her and Jen’s lying, when revealed, is gonna tank all of this, and to imagine another life, a past life, or a life where this isn't it, feels wrong, which itself is strange and confusing and almost nonsensical but it’s how she feels and Judy honours how she feels. And she’s pretty sure Jen feels the same. There is no wish to go back to when life was a previous variance of normal and they weren’t in it, together. 

When she and Jen talk about it, try to figure how they tell the boys, Judy can tell Jen’s scared, unsure how in the hell this goes, and she can understand that, can’t imagine what it’s like to tell your kids you’re with someone that’s not their other parent, especially when they’ve died.

Judy has this enduring hope, maybe, that any shock, fear the boys might feel is lessened by knowing it’s her their mom is with, and conversely, she worries to the point of grinding her teeth that any shock, fear the boys might feel may grow in tenfold if they find out it’s Judy, who has just been living with them for like, a year.

(And she knows it’s stressing Jen out even though she doesn't share it until it's almost too late until she's not eating because the anxiety over it curbs her appetite, so Judy gives her weed gummies, and Judy rubs her back at night because she knows she’s tense, needs it or she’ll become nothing but a ball of anxiety and white knuckles. And she indulges Jen when she gets a little too high and lets her poke at her cheeks, play this game she likes to play where they each puff their cheeks out and the other blows the air out and then they kiss, and Judy sorta loves that, it’s like a special thing, something Jen only does when a little too out of it.)

They almost tell the boys on three separate occasions, something going wrong each time like Charlie deciding he wants to go out with friends the night they plan to, or something like that, and Judy tells Jen that's a sign that it's not meant to happen yet, and Jen just tells her she doesn't think that's true and that they are just being wusses.

And like Judy is figuring out, days, where nothing out of the ordinary happens, is when it _happens._ The boys just find out, long before they settle on a conclusion that feels right, feels a normal way to tell kids this kinda thing, and it is their own fault, their own lack of strength, Judy supposes, or maybe it _is_ their strength that does them in because they thought they were in the clear, only are found like they are because they thought they were home alone, thought Charlie would not be back home until later that night because that’s what he said, he said that very morning that he was gonna be at a friends house until 8, and Henry, he was supposed to be at his grandmother’s until around the same time, and maybe they just got it mixed up, who knows, it doesn’t matter, and it could be worse, could be much worse, so, so much worse, but it happens and they have to just deal with it when it does. 

They’re sat at the outdoor living room Judy still finds a little obnoxious when it happens, having just finished a full bottle of wine embarrassingly early in the evening, Jen’s idea, excusing it with they’ve had a long fucking week, when she and Jen are sitting thigh to thigh, when Judy shifts her legs across Jen’s lap, her arm around her shoulders, her hand threading through Jen’s hair, Jen’s hands on Judy’s thighs, her waist, and it’s only meant to be a brief kiss, sorta like a peck, just 'cause she can, 'cause they thought they would be alone, but it turns into a little more as Judy doesn't care to pull away, and Jen opens her mouth slightly, her tongue there and what is Judy supposed to do, not like she can ignore that, doesn’t want to anyway, so it turns into a needy sort of kiss where Judy’s close to straddling Jen, and Jen's hands are close to reaching up under her shirt, she can tell, and Judy has a brief thought what sex in this stupid outdoor living room might be like, but she thankfully doesn’t climb onto Jen's lap, thankfully they hear Charlie’s voice crack through before she does. 

“Cover your eyes, Henry.” 

And Judy’s never jumped so high in the air, ever in her life until then, until Jen’s pushing her away frantically, and they’re both turning instantly, both a variance of mortified neither think they’ve known when they see the boys ten or so feet away both knowing it’s so sweet that Henry actually is covering his eyes, and even though it’s lit only by small evening light they can see Charlie’s wide-eyed stare is gonna be an issue. 

She's not sure if she feels hot all over because of one activity or the other, but she’s starting to sweat already, can’t bring herself to look at Jen just yet, feels this insane regret, like maybe if two days ago when they almost told the boys, a week ago when they almost told the boys, like if they weren't so scared to put this huge shift in the dynamic on Henry and Charlie it all could have been avoided, and it feels like a century before anyone speaks. 

“What’s going on?” Henry says from behind his hands, and Charlie, for once, seems to not know what exactly to say, has no snippy comment to add. 

In these kinda situations, high intensity, Judy supposes, she has this overwhelming need to smooth it over as quickly as possible, by any means, and sometimes that means saying stupid shit. Judy finds herself blurting, “Kissing,” as she finally looks at Jen who looks even more mortified now like she’s about to shout what the fuck is wrong with you? and it’s like Judy cannot stop, she says, “Sometimes friends kiss, guys, you know,” and she goes to kiss Jen like she’s making an actual point, but Jen puts a hand on her chest and says, “Oh, that’s enough. That’s enough.”

And then Jen takes over, which is probably a good thing, says, “Boys, come here. Henry, uncover your face, babe.” 

When the boys sit down on accompanying lawn chairs, Judy smiles softly at them, attempting something like very outward empathy, hoping it eases their visible confusion, hoping this is gonna go okay, has a small thought that's her cognizant of how she can fear something so much but once it's happening it's just happening, and it's almost nearly never as bad as she fears.

“Okay,” Jen says, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasping, and Judy nods at Jen, then the boys, and they both nod back, “What you saw-”

“-I didn’t even see anything,” Henry says, and Judy can literally feel this sense of pure relief, but then Charlie is saying, “Well, I fucking did,” and she winces.

And Jen lets the word slide, though Henry shouts "bad word, mom!" and Judy notices Jen's hands ball into fists, only says, almost like she's resigning, “Well, I’m sorry.”

"Yeah, guys, really, we're sorr-" and Charlie is interrupting before Judy can finish, “What, so are you guys like, dating now, or something?” Charlie says, arms crossed over his chest, his leg bouncing, and Judy knows it’s a nervous thing he has and she feels awful for inducing that. 

“Dating?” Henry says, perking up like he almost doesn’t know what it means, which of course he does, but now he looks even more confused. 

“Things… intensified,” Judy says, nodding, like she’s offering up a solid explanation, and Jen immediately is knocking her shoulder, saying, “wrong fucking word, maybe, Judy,” and gives her this look that says please just be quiet, right now. 

Jen ultimately just says that they’re a couple, and it feels so weird to hear it, may even be the first time she has heard it spoken aloud, not in a hushed under the covers between her and Jen, and Judy can tell Jen's scared, she's doing this thing Judy notices she does when nervous, rubbing her thumb and index finger together, and they end up saying that other than that nothing has changed, and they both tell the boys that they are just as loved as before, just to reassure that there is enough love to go around, and Jen’s doing really well, asks the boys if they have any questions, tells them that if they ever do, they can ask either of them, and she looks over at Judy, and Judy nods, smiling reassuringly at the both of them.

And Henry breaks into this chorus of “Judy’s gonna live with us forever!” while Charlie says, “I fucking knew it would happen,” but doesn’t actually sound all that mad and Jen visibly refrains from making a sharp remark.

Jen asks them if they’re okay with it, and Henry only nods enthusiastically and stands up, and hugs Judy, tight and for like, literal seconds, and it almost feels like the best possible outcome, save for exactly how it’s happened, and Charlie just says that he doesn’t really care, and again, doesn’t seem too mad about any of it, not even the seeing them kiss part, which Judy almosts wants to tell him that he can be mad about it if he wants. 

And it sort of ends there, that night, they go inside, they have dinner that isn't awkward, only awkward because Judy starts being overly nice, and then the boys both go up to their respective rooms, both Jen and Judy deciding to give them space, Judy recalling that is what you should do as it says in this ‘How to Tell Your Kid You’re Dating Someone’ parenting article she and Jen read. 

And they open up another bottle of wine, fall into the habit of not sitting too close on the couch as they watch a few episodes of TV, talk about it but only briefly, both mentioning their own variations of relief, how they’re glad it went relatively okay though it wasn’t planned at all, and Judy only thinks about, and then tells, Jen how brave she is and how relieved she is that there’s no more lying, figures lying has no place in their life anymore. There's an awareness that there will probably be more conversations about it, the boys may ask questions, may both wake-up tomorrow angry, hurt, confused, and Judy just tells herself that she and Jen can handle it, will handle it because Judy has no interest in losing this. And when it reaches late evening, after they have both said goodnights to the boys, which goes just as it normally does, thankfully, Charlie a quick goodnight, Henry a bedtime story or two, when Jen out of the blue is saying, “You wanna get high? I think we fucking deserve it.”

They end up each with a 20mg gummy, and they lay in bed together and Jen tells her that she thinks it could have gone better.

“I feel like we were set up,” Jen says, lying on her back, Judy’s head in her lap, and Judy chuckles a little, the effect of the gummy working, and says, “I’m just glad it’s over with.”

“I wonder if Lorna, like, knows, or something, and wanted this to happen,” Jen says like she’s seriously considering it, “And that’s why Henry was home early, and Charlie, too. I wouldn’t put it past her, Jude, she can find shit out, somehow, I swear.”

“I think you’re getting a little paranoid, honey,” Judy says, realizes maybe slightly too dismissively. 

“I would fucking hate for her to just find out,” Jen says, scoffing, and Judy isn’t sure she’s even thinking anymore, “I’m gonna have to tell the bitch, eventually.” 

“We can tell her when we get fucking married,” Judy says, sorta mumbling and rubbing her eyes. Not thinking, confirmed. 

“Uh-huh,” Jen says, roughly, a hand now in Judy's hair, “then and only fucking then.”

And it falls quiet for a few minutes, Judy almost falling asleep, forgetting how that’s what these things do to her. 

"Is it bad if I don't want the boys to ask about it?" Jen asks with a kind of vulnerability to her voice she doesn't display often, breaking that almost sleep Judy's in.

"That's probably normal," Judy offers, a little groggily, turning her head to look over at Jen, she reaches her arm up, hand lading on Jen's stomach, flexing, asking for her hand, and when Jen obliges, Judy says, because it seems like what Jen needs, "It'll be okay. I think it's a learning process. And you did so good today." 

Jen smiles softly, shakes her head a little, says, like she wants to change the subject, “And you sure know how to talk in a crisis,” but lightly, like she's just teasing.

“Hey,” she says, playfully, hitting Jen's hip, and Jen smirks, and says, “What, you want me to lie? Say you handled it beautifully when you told our 10 and 16 year old our relationship _intensified_?”

“Well,” Judy says, not able to think about the complexities of that sentence, moves to take her place beside Jen, rests her chin of Jen's shoulder, “I, for one, did not lie about that.”

“Maybe you fucking should’ve,” Jen says, and Judy’s starting to feel a little too high for this, for conversations, and then Jen’s saying, softly, pensively almost, “I’m glad it’s over, too, I’m glad they know. It’s good.” 

And Judy starts thinking about Jen’s hand on her hip, as they lay facing each other, how her body starts to feel light, even with Jen’s hand beginning to slide up her shirt, and she has a small thought about how Jen’s always the one to start it, somehow, even though Judy wants her just as much. 

And she thinks about how Jen’s kinda bossy in bed, as Jen’s the one crawling on top of her, always telling her what to do even if Judy’s the one on top, fingers inside of her. 

It starts to feel like it's all blending together as she lets Jen kiss her, lift her pajama shirt up, off and over her head, she lets Jen cup her tits and do whatever she wants, and she lets her legs fall open and eagerly lifts her hips hoping she gets some friction against Jen’s leg, there, in between hers and her body is like static. Jen's got a hand on her stomach, her mouth going between Judy's tits, her leg pressing into her like she knows it's what Judy wants, and it's like Judy's sinking into the mattress, she kinda feels like jello, almost, and then Jen's starting to pull her pajama shorts down, asking, "that okay?" and she says a quick yes before she registers she's speaking, and then Jen's lips are on her thigh, breath hot, and it's like all she feels is that - that sensation - and Jen's repeating herself, as she moves Judy's underwear aside, and then Judy's repeating herself, and she thinks Jen makes some noise like fuck, Judy, or something like that, and where she would usually feel a little embarrassed, she just laughs a little, her hands finding Jen's in the mess of it, and then there's a hot breath on her that makes her shake a little and then Jen's tongue is against her, and the pressue is so good, and it almost feels like she's blacking out as it's happening, and she thought she would be fine with that dosage, but she doesn't even feel real now, and she starts to push her hips into her Jen's face and she's suddenly shocked back into reality when Jen's groaning and saying, "okay, Jesus, Jude, it's already hard enough to fucking breathe down here, don't fucking start suffocating me now," but she chuckles as she's saying it so Judy says, "whoops," and Jen begins again, a hand resting on Judy's stomach, an intimacy Judy loves, and it doesn't take long, it's maybe even only a few minutes until Judy is pushing her hips down again, subconciously, and Jen groans again, holding her in place, and coming while high is kind of like on a whole other level.

Within a blink Jen's eye level with her and kissing her softly, telling her she's gotten good at being quiet, and as if she's losing pockets of time she finds herself on top of Jen, a little wobbly, steadying herself, and then leaning down to kiss her, hair falling in Jen’s face, getting mixed up in a kiss that feels sloppy but that may be just ‘cause she’s out of it, and it’s a night where Jen leaves her shirt on and Judy doesn’t question it. 

“Fuck, I can’t feel my hands,” Jen says, chuckling, and placing either of them on both of Judy’s cheeks, and then they’re kissing again, and again, and it’s like all Judy can actually feel at this point is her lips against Jen’s. 

Soon Judy’s shoving her hand down Jen’s pajama pants a little too roughly, mumbling a sorry into her mouth. And it feels like she’s thinking in this nonlinear fashion. Between kisses, she says, “pants off?” like it’s a question, and it kinda is, and Jen makes this _hmph_ sound and tries to nod against the pillow and Judy figures it must mean yes. Judy tries taking Jen’s pants off without removing her hand, ultimately she can’t, and then Jen’s yanking them down. 

She thinks Jen’s telling her what to do, isn’t surprised if she is, and she starts to feel a little light-headed, and it feels more like muscle memory than actively doing anything, and it starts to feel intense in a way Judy can’t totally place, but it’s something like a reminder that she gets to see Jen like this, in these moments where she lays herself bare in front of her, trusting her, knowing, hopefully without a single ounce of doubt, that Judy only wants to make her feel good, has only ever wanted to make her feel good, and when they make eye contact, and Jen holds it, there, between them, Judy honors it. Jen’s breath is heavy against Judy’s lips, her mouth opening and closing as puffs of air exit, as she grabs at Judy’s shoulders, digs fingers into her back, mumbles for her to go faster, go fucking faster, and Judy can tell she’s smirking before she registers she is only because Jen reaches up to kiss her, told her once she can’t resist kissing her if she’s smirking like that. 

Or maybe it’s because she’s coming, Judy realizes, and maybe it’s a slightly delayed realization, and she can’t tell if it was quick or if she’s just out of it as Jen’s tightening around her fingers, wants to muffle any possible sound that she can’t help but make, as they really have gotten kinda good at ensuring they do just that. And then they lay facing one another, and Judy starts to feel a little more in control, somehow, though a little sleepy, as Jen starts lightly kissing her, mumbling to her that she loves her, and Judy trails her fingers along Jen’s spine, mumbling it right back, and it turns into something reminiscent of a hymn.


End file.
